Page 7 of Wrong Number, Right Single Dad
“Copy that.” I fold my arms over my chest and rest a hip against the counter. “I assume no cigarettes before bed and only one cocktail after dinner.”
He gives me a sharp look. “And, one more thing. Please, don’t invite any of your other…friendsover.”
My cheeks flush as the meaning—and the stern look—he gives me registers.
“I don’t have any otherfriendslike that right now.”
“Hmm.” He doesn’t look or sound convinced.
“Even if I did, I wouldn’t invite them over. I’m not some horny teenager who fools around with her boyfriend on the couch after the kids go to bed.”
“Good. Well.” He clears his throat. “See that you don’t.”
“I promise, I’ll be good. Daddy.”
His eye twitches at that. “Why do you keep calling me that?”
“What do you think I’ve been calling you the past couple of weeks?”
He opens his mouth, but only a startled noise from the back of his throat comes out.
I grin. Good. I’m glad he’s the one who’s flustered now. Our relationship—up until tonight—has always been balanced.
A dull pang strikes my gut. We really had a good thing going. Mutually satisfying. Uncomplicated. I don’t suppose there’s any chance of ever going back to that after this.
I’ll miss him. I’ll miss his strong fingers. I’ll miss his persuasive tongue. I’ll miss his dick.
I release a sigh. “If there isn’t anything else, you should probably get going. You don’t want to be late.”
“I can’t leave. Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t leave with you looking like that.”
Both of our gazes drop to my body. Oh. I forgot I was still only wearing my lingerie and trench coat.
“Fair enough.” I raise my gaze to meet his. “I don’t suppose you could loan me some sweatpants or a shirt.”
His jaw clenches. “I suppose I could do that.”
“Thanks.” I bat my eyes. “I’d be most obliged.”
He gives me another look. I can’t decide if it’s searing or glaring. Either way, it makes my belly clench.
Turning on his heel, he stalks down the hallway. I follow at a brisk pace, still smirking at the back of his head.
Even if our old arrangement is over, at least I can have fun with this one while it lasts.
Plus, I’ll even make a few bucks. God knows I can use it now that I’m no longer working my side hustle.
Jared—it’s still weird to think about him having a real name—opens the door at the end of the hall. He strides across the room and motions to another door.
“That’s my closet. You can help yourself to anything in there.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” I saunter past him and slightly bump him with my behind as I brush past him to enter the walk-in. “I’ve always enjoyed getting in your pants.”
“Fucking hell,” he grumbles under his breath. His eyes clenched shut. “Are you really going to keep doing that?”
